


Stay with me

by waywardimpalawriter



Category: Dean Winchester - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt, Sadness, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:36:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardimpalawriter/pseuds/waywardimpalawriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Is it just a dream or something more? Full of regret and longing for more.</p><p>Pairing: Dean x Reader</p><p>Rating: NSFW aka smut everyone with angst thrown in for good measure.</p><p>Written for the #SPN Celebration Challenge. Prompt #NSFW09</p><p>Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it if your gonna tap it people), not what you think (is that even a warning?)</p><p>Setting: any season</p><p>Tags: @thing-you-do-with-that-thing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay with me

Stay with me

 

 

 

Half drank bottle of whisky sat on the bed side table, TV flicking an infomercial casting shadows in the relatively dark room. Only a single lamp cast an eerie shadow on the lone figure laying out on the motel bed. Spread out on his back, clothes from the days hunt still encasing his large frame. Groaning, Dean rolls over trying to sit up but falling back into the uncomfortable, itchy bed. Hands scrubbing at his eyes clearing the sleep, before one cards through his tussled honey brown hair tugging at the strands a few times.

The sweet lure of sleep seeming to evade him, much like every night when getting three if he’s lucky four hours of rest is all. Not that his body isn’t use to it, but Dean thought for sure almost two bottles of Jack in that it’d numb him enough to fall into an inebriated state aka passing the fuck out and not remembering a damn thing tomorrow.

So unlucky is this emerald eyed hunter, as something catches his eye. The reason he woke from his slumber. A simple noise really one he shouldn’t have picked up on. Though this noise hadn’t been heard for the past three months. Soft feminine laughter floated towards his ears again he had to be dreaming.

“Y/N?” rough drowsy filled voice cut through the silence.

You nod slowly, watching him, a sad smile gracing your lips. “It’s me Dean.”

“But how? I don’t,” shaking your head taking a few steps towards the bed letting him see, in the harsh yellow light of the bedside lamp that your wearing a simple tank top and shorts.

Hair pulled to one side baring a long expanse of neck and shoulder, eyes shining while watching him, “It’s okay love everything’s alright,” sweet voice speaking words of reassurance.

Nodding, Dean sat up beckoning you towards him. His trademark half smirk sliding into place, watching as you place a knee on the mattress, slowly prowling towards him. “Am I dreaming? Cause theirs an angel in front of me.”

Rolling your eyes, a chuckle escaping ruby lips. “No dream baby all real. See,” grabbing his right hand, placing it on your hip.

Squeezing the soft flesh he found, wrapping the arm around your waist to pull you forward. Bracing either hand beside his head leaning forward watching as his eyes traveled down to the gap in your top. Showing off the fact that you’d gone braless, breasts swaying with each movement of your body. Hearing the deep groan leave his lips a satisfied smile tugging at your lips right before plush slightly chapped lips met, your softer ones. A gentle fluttering of mouths, as his hand traces up your back tangling in your hair at the base of your neck. Holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, tongue tracing grabbing your bottom lip and tugging. Nibbles while his mouth keeps you distracted, his free hand has come up to slide down the front of your body. Underneath the cotton fabric of your shorts and panties, fingers ghostly over your core, testing. Teasing you as one finger dips between your folds to rub in quick circles that tiny little nub of nerves that has your body bowing in half.

      

Gasping, Dean takes advantage, plunging his tongue into the warm cavern of your mouth, dueling with yours. Fighting over dominance, as his finger works you from below, his tongue mimicking the movement. As another moan leaves your lips, hips rocking against his hand desperate to feel that fraction, to have that pleasure only Dean can give you wash over you.

Oxygen becoming as issue you pull back, staring into those deep pools of dark emerald, lust filling the pupils till the green you love so much is just a ring. “Dean please,” you gasp feeling him plunge his middle finger into your wet core.

Thrusting all the way till the knuckle, just resting there a few seconds before wiggling the digit brushing your walls as they clamp down. You’re not close, the tension in your stomach isn’t there yet, the tingles have barely started but you know it’s only a matter of minutes before Dean’ll have you a sobbing messing of passion. That he’ll not even be sorry for, which could you couldn’t blame him for either as you asked for it, coming into his room in the middle of the night. Barely dressed, body aching for his touch, to be filled with just Dean, in more ways than your sure he can give. But you’d take this, this little time together, the rush of passion and pleasure, the melding of two bodies to one.

That sinful mouth breaks your thoughts as it comes down upon yours. Taking what he wants, your moans, your taste, of mint from brushing your teeth and something that’s all you. In return you sample his, the whiskey you know he’s drank way too much of, hints of cinnamon and him. Off teeth snagging your lip, biting a little too hard but there’s pleasure in the pain as the hand on your neck drifts down your back edging the hem of your tank top.

Breaking apart, you lean forward panting, his long fingers, now two buried deep inside you, pushing and pulling slowly, teasing wanting to draw out the pleasure. Lips leaving open mouth kisses along your jaw, to your neck sucking bruises into your soft skin. Marking what’s his so the whole world will know. Though in the back of his mind he knows it’ll be no good his enemies will still come, still kill and take. But for now he’ll keep you safe in his arms right where you belong till the end of time if he has anything to say about it.

“You feel so good babe,” he breathes against the shell of your ear, nipping at the lobe before leaving his mark just behind the lobe.

Trailing his lips to your collarbone, biting down, hearing you hiss as you squirm atop him, his jeans quickly loosing room. As you push down against his hardening cock, rubbing your lower stomach against the denim covered erection. His fingers slid out of your now dripping core. Your hips desperately chasing the orgasm you know Dean can give you but is withholding, you roll them down trying to get him to finish what he’s started. To keep touching your dripping center, even if it’s those feather light touches that drive you crazy. It’d be something anything to appease the ache he’s built then abandoned.

“Dean,” you all but whine sitting back on your knees, a pout coving your lips.

Chuckling, bringing his fingers to his mouth, eyes locked with yours as he sucks them clean savoring each drop. “Sweet as honey,” grinning, he uses the hand at your back to pull the tank top from your frame.

Air hitting your breasts, making your nipples harden to points, while a sigh leaves your parted lips when rough callused hands cup each, testing the weight, giving each turgid peak a quick pinch. Head descending to draw the left areola deep into his mouth, sucking harshly. As the hand on your right squeezes. Molds and tugs knowing from past explorations of your body just how sensitive your breasts are. How with this alone he can make you cum, not as hard as if it’d be his hands and mouth or better yet his cock but still give you that euphoric feeling of bliss you crave. All because he knows your body better than you.

Your our hands push into his lush honey locks yanking, holding, then trying to pull him away when his wicked mouth becomes a little too much to handle. It’s got you withering in his lap, your legs having come to straddle his thighs when he sat up. Crotch pressed down, rocking over his jean covered cock trying to distract him, knowing it never works. Frustration rolls through you at his slow pace, hands slide down his back, pawing at the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric up as you arch backward long enough to pull the garment from his body.

Your focus broken when his mouth switches from one breast to the other giving it the same treatment, spare hand drifting low slipping once more below the waistband. Fingers seeking out your wet heat, drawing just barely through your folds dragging your juices, spreading them along as his fingers toy with your clit.

“Jesus Dean please,” you’re not above begging he knows it, drives you to it in fact.

Feeling the wicked smirk gracing his kiss swollen lips, as he gives your breast one last nip. Eyes raising to lock with yours, “What baby? What do you want?”

Drowning, it’s the only thing you can think right then. Even with his eyes so dark, a gleam of mischief, more like a promise of pleasure scorches your very soul. Try as you might, you can’t look away, only distraction you give is crashing your lips together rocking your hips against the hand sinking two fingers back into the warm depths of your core. Twisting, scissoring, and dragging those long rough digits against your spot making you whine into his mouth. He brings your right to the edge of bliss then backs off. Circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, mouth taking slow, greedy sips, tongue dipping retreating much like his fingers.

Two could play at this game you think. Short nails scoring down the planes of his muscular back, moving around his waist and back up the trail of abs to his chest. Tweaking his nipples between thumb and forefinger earning you a growl from where his head is buried in your neck. Grinning to yourself, bragging your soft hands back down to the waistband of his jeans. Toying with the button before popping it, the flat of your hand palming the prominent bulge. Gripping his length, giving it a light squeeze making his hips jump at your touch.

“Dangerous ground woman,” he growls into your ear before flipping the two of you over.

Hovering above your body, hand still firmly between your thighs the speed has started to pick up. This time, he adds pressure to your clit, chasing that orgasm for you. Watching you shake and spasm around him, back arching as your hands grip his biceps. Panting breath escaping your mouth, another growl in frustration pulled from those plush lips as Dean removes his fingers. Only to rip the remaining clothes from your body, a gasp the only sound hear. Except for the creak in springs from Dean’s quick move. Ducking between your legs, one tossed over his shoulder. The other held in place by his arm wrapped around your thigh using the fingers to hold open your folds. As his mouth assaults you sensitive pussy, tongue circling the tight nerve before sucking it deep within the warm confines of his delicious mouth. Three fingers deep in your core, pumping quick, crooking upwards to brush against your spot just right.

One hand cards through his hair, tugging the locks trying to keep hold on your sanity while the other gripes the bed sheet be nether you. That familiar tension growing in your lower belly, tingles lighting your nerve endings, toes curling.

“Let go baby,” he moans against your clit, sucking harder. “Cum for me love.”

His husky whisper is your undoing. How something so simple can make your body explored into thousands of tiny stars. Almost to the point you black out that’s how talented his mouth and fingers are. Not that you’d even tell him, though he knows. You try to regain normal breathing and heart rate patterns, which are thrown out the window when you hear the drop of jeans and belt. You have just enough time to look down watching Dean grip your ankles pulling your ass to the end of the bed. One leg laying against his chest the other bent at the knee and to the side. His own hand plumping his cock a few times, trying to draw in his own pleasure as pre-cum already weeps from the swollen red crown.

“Damn,” you manage to say before his positioning himself at your dripping pussy teasing the delicate, trembling folds with his cockhead.

All at once he’s thrusted inside your quivering walls, which grip him tightly, tugging him in deep. Curses flying from his lips, along with “So tight, feels good baby.”

His strong body comes to hover over yours, the leg against his chest pressed almost to yours as he drives him repeatedly. Your eyes locking for what felt like both the first and millionth time. Seeing so many emotions written in the dark depths. They make your body quiver under his, arms coming to wrap around his neck, pulling his mouth to yours. A melding of two souls, of two mouths battling to see who could draw what sounds from the other. Heads moving to get better access, his arms flexing beside your heads keeping him up while your own score down his back gaining a hiss from Dean.

Making him pull back, slowly his thrusts till there long and drawn out. Shooting you a smirk that turns into a groan when you clench your walls around his cock. Right leg wrapping around his waist, foot at the small of his back urging him on.

“Please,” you whisper feeling the flutter of a second orgasm start to form.

Sliding all the way out till just his cockhead rested at your entrance, Dean offers you a soft smile. Something different in the expression you hadn’t seen ever. Half way scaring you and giving you an added jolt of pleasure. Though you didn’t dare hope it could mean what you thought. He didn’t give you time to analyze those thoughts as he plunges home setting a fast, punishing pace that has you both writhing and moaning like no tomorrow. One arm holding him up as the other slips between your bodies toying with your clit adding the right pressure to have you seeing stars for the second time tonight.

Back arching against him, arms pulling him into your body as you convulse around him. Twitching, a sigh of pleasure leaving your parted panting lips. Eyes hazing from the passion, but you can make out Dean’s grunt of release, feel his seed seeping from your body were he painted your walls and quivering pussy. Having worked you through your own orgasm and in the meantime joined you in bliss. Falling into the cradle of your arms after letting the leg on his chest slide to the side.

Air breath panting over sweat slicked skin, his face buried in the crook of your neck placing soft kisses as your own hands run through his hair. His weight is heavy but welcomed, a reminder of the man you love. Even when your legs are going numb from hanging off the side. You turn your head to place nibbling kisses along his jaw, feeling the stubble abrade your lips.

Minutes later, having basked in the afterglow of your love making Dean manages to climb to his shaking feet. “You look like a new born just trying to walk Dean. I wear you out that much?”

Laughter sweet, deep and genuine leaves his lips as he tosses you a wink. “Hell no sweetheart you just rocked my world is all.”

“I’m that good huh?” you laugh watching his naked ass walk towards the bathroom.

He’d just turned his back for a few seconds and yet when he came back around your gone. His clothes back in place like everything had been a dream and it had. A very vivid imagined vision. Like he hadn’t touched you at all and truthfully he hadn’t not tonight anyway. It’d been months since the last time, he’d seen your bright e/c eyes shining at him. Beautiful h/c hair spread out over his chest, sun shining overhead giving the both of you warmth and light.

His mind seemed to love playing tricks on him. Driving him insane with memories so real, sounds, touches, smells all generated to make it as if he’s losing his mind. Though how can he not? The day you walked away, he lost so much more than just his mind, but his heart and soul. Feet heavy, Dean goes to sit on the hard mattress hand reaching for the bottle beside it, downing the last gulp in one go, cursing the mark burning hot on his arm. So angered by the memory he doesn’t think twice about flinging the glass against the far wall. Listening to it shatter just like his heart all over again.

Though there’s no one else to blame but himself. He’d pushed you away, told you to leave, that he’s nothing but poison and you listened. With tears in your eyes, you walked away and now he’s a shell of a man wishing you’d stayed with him.


End file.
